


Change the Locks and Chase It Out

by PirateQueenCatherine



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Analysis, F/F, Fluff, Hair Dyeing, Post-Canon, Post-Crimson Flower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27247009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PirateQueenCatherine/pseuds/PirateQueenCatherine
Summary: Byleth is no longer bound by responsibility, duty, and her connection to Sothis, but still feels like her identity is lost, like something must change for people to recognise her as anything other than a tool of revolution. Perhaps she should dye her hair to get over it?
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 16
Kudos: 66





	Change the Locks and Chase It Out

“El, what would you think if I dyed my hair?”

The question came out of nowhere. Edelgard and Byleth had been minding their own business, reading silently on opposite sides of their study. Byleth closed her book with a decisive thud, getting up to place it on a shelf.

“What, my dear, made you consider that?”

“Is it strange if I say nostalgia?”

“I don’t think I’ve heard a more loaded question since Hubert asked if I would be the sort to disapprove of him getting married.”

Byleth giggled and sat back down, turning her chair a bit to look at Edelgard as she spun dark hair around a finger. 

Explaining her hair had always been an awkward affair. Enough people had seen her during the war, enough stories had been told about a professor who had changing green hair, that it came up regularly, especially the further out she travelled in Fódlan, to places where rumours had twisted into much more interesting variants.

Her favourite was the time a gaggle of schoolchildren asked if her hair could tell the future.

“No, it can’t do that, but it can tell when someone is lying. Have you all been good and done your homework?”

It may have been the looming presence of her entourage that had scared them, but it certainly intimidated the kids. Whether they actually went to do their homework, though, was unlikely. 

At least nobody asked Edelgard about hers any more. Distant relatives and ex-nobles who, never considering their words, asked ‘where did that beautiful brown hair go?’ were swiftly disregarded. 

“I just like the idea of being a bit more blue. Maybe a teal? Is that even possible?”

It was partially an honest desire for an aesthetic shift.. Byleth was far more likely to do that, her wardrobe was approximately three times the size of Edelgard’s, reflecting the range of looks she’d go for. Edelgard stuck to reliable, reasonably formal outfits, at least in public. Byleth would happily challenge Dorothea on her range.

But both of them were acutely aware of how, as absurd as it sounded, their hair defined their identities, to an extent.

For Edelgard, it was a symbol of a now-dead society. Not of her trauma, she would never be someone to make it about her, as much as Byleth encouraged her to sometimes indulge herself. Since the war, her glistening white hair was a sign that things would, as long she lived, never return to the way they were.

There was a power in that.

For Byleth, it was different. It was a powerless feeling. Where, she thought, Edelgard had created successes in spite of her uncle and the noble class, Byleth was no more than a tool of something greater, and to that extent, even her appearance was not her own. She was placed on the battlefield as an embodiment of the Goddess, but never as Byleth. She was, really, only as powerful as Sothis’ Divine Pulse allowed her to be. 

Perhaps it would appear shallow, at least to anyone not as intimately familiar with how appearance dictates perception as Edelgard. She, and the other Black Eagles, were personally aware that nothing could define Fódlan’s new leadership as much as first impressions after the war was over. There was politics in appearances. As much as they could deny it, it was a painful truth of the world.

Her hair was a mild symptom of a greater problem. One that could not be solved with hair dye. 

Edelgard, of course, disagreed with this analysis. Byleth’s interpretation lacked nuance, it disregarded the fact that it was Byleth’s decisions that led to her hair returning to normal, that without Byleth’s will and strength the blessing of Sothis would have been useless. Whereas that white hair was a symbol of what was lost, of a generation that must suffer through change for the next to live. 

The grass was always greener. Any time Edelgard said that, Byleth giggled.

‘No, I think my hair is definitely greener,’ she would reply. Edelgard would roll her eyes, gently nudge Byleth with an elbow, and let out a stifled giggle of her own. Every time.

“I was considering brown. Maybe blonde? I keep looking at Dorothea and thinking her hair could look great on me. I know it’s simple but…”

Edelgard looked up from her book, admiring her partner. She sat forward, a smirk growing into a full smile. It was in moments like this that she truly saw a unique kind of beauty in Byleth. And it was in the moment immediately following it, where Byleth’s eyes went wide and her cheeks would flush pink, that she saw another kind of beauty, one reserved just for El.

“I think you could pull off most colours, dear. But, if you don’t mind me asking, what are you nostalgic for?” Edelgard asked, doing her best to toe the line between personal curiosity and a small amount of concern.

Byleth shrugged, pouting a little as she continued to play with her hair.

“Feeling a little more connected to it, I suppose.”

“At least you’re not saying you should cut it then.”

Byleth’s eyes lit up. Cogs started whirring behind them as she thought about it.

“Oh! Do you think I’d look better with a different style? Short hair has always looked so nice, maybe I should ask-”

“It was a joke...about your hair being...connected...to your skull, Byleth.”

About ten seconds passed before the explanation had bore its way through the many hairstyles that had flared up in Byleth’s mind. Eventually, Byleth giggled, reaching over to put a hand on Edelgard’s knee.

“Sorry! I hadn’t noticed it was a joke, very good.”

With a comedic, clearly exaggerated pout, Edelgard exhaled a loud hmph, before going back to her gentle smile. 

“Silly jokes aside, I like that. I am sure I can wax lyrical about how I see you as more than just your hair, beautiful as it is, but I think you know you can just ask whenever you’d like that.”

Edelgard had grown much better at voicing her feelings about Byleth, but it still made her cheeks burn up whenever she did. That reaction would never go away. 

“...although I have one concern.”

Byleth cocked her head like a puppy.

“Oh?”

“I have no idea how to dye hair. Do you?”

She raised a finger as if to reply with something affirming, a knowledgeable response from someone who had done their research, before giggling. 

“Absolutely no idea.”

* * *

_I’m not sure what I want my hair colour to be, I keep looking at everyone else and thinking they wear it better than I ever could._

_I know that’s a sort of confirmation bias, especially when I’m seeing everyone in public. I never see them in the morning with unbrushed hair or with the old teen haircuts that still haunt their memories. I wonder what Hubert’s was. I bet it was really embarrassing._

_The one question that keeps cropping up in my mind is who I want to be, too. There’s some obvious answers like, you know, alive. Breathing. El’s partner._

_But I can’t shake the feeling that I’m seen as something different to everyone else. Like a parasite who latched on to the Black Eagles, got accepted as a weapon or tool, and now I’m dug in too deep for them to let me go, like a splinter that got under enough layers of skin that you’d have to carve it out. Not that Hubert hadn’t offered enough times._

* * *

It was a few days later when Byleth had procured the necessary items for dyeing her hair. A set of chemicals, imbued with magic thanks to Linhardt, that would have to be combined only when they were ready. Some gloves to protect the skin, unless either one of them wanted blue hands for the rest of the week. Perhaps not best for Fódlan’s leader.

Byleth sat in the bathtub, bare save for a pair of underwear but with no apprehension about Edelgard’s gaze. 

“Alright, are you sure?” Edelgard asked, as she prepared to combine the two bottles.

“As I’ll ever be.”

With that, Edelgard cracked open the sealed tops, pouring them out into a third, currently empty bottle. Both were thick, gloopy, and white like milk, but when combined they went blue. First a teal, into a deep turquoise, before going as far as navy blue when fully mixed. Roughly Byleth’s goal. 

“100%?”

“El, you’ve been asking that all day, I’m sure!”

“I just want to make sure before I…”

With her gloves on, Edelgard scooped some up, and unceremoniously let it fall onto Byleth’s head with a splatter.

“Eeeh, you can be nice about it though~!” Byleth squealed.

“W-well I didn’t know how hard I’d have to be! Sorry, did I hurt you?”

Laughing, Byleth squirmed in place, shivering a little at the cold air in the bathroom. 

“No, of course not, just it sounded really gross.”

It took about half an hour for Byleth’s hair to be fully coated in the stuff. It ended up looking waxy on her, and far, far darker than either had expected at that point. Midnight blue, someone might call it. 

“And so you just have to wait for thirty minutes? And that’s...it?” Edelgard asked.

“Well, and I have to try not to flick dye all over our home in the process, as much as I hate this feeling and want to shake it off like a puppy after being out in the rain.”

“How much of that is a joke?”

“About 75%.”

“Please try to avoid giving me blue polka dot hair by doing that.”

* * *

_I don’t think blue hair will fix these feelings, obviously, and I’m certain at least somebody will start calling me Blueleth. Probably Sylvain?_

_But I wanted something that could mark a difference, a milestone. A moment I can at least point to when telling people who I am. Because I don’t think I was defined by the war, and I refuse to be defined by Rhea and Sothis._

_And even saying I want to be defined by our current life isn’t quite right. Being Edelgard’s Empress is the only true blessing I’ve received, but I won’t be defined by that either._

_I’m not sure how I want to be defined._

_I just want something to change._

* * *

After it was washed out, Byleth rushed to the mirror to admire it. 

“Oh my gosh, El, come in here! It’s done!”

She was still dripping everywhere, without even a towel wrapped around her, faintly blue droplets dripping down her body and onto the floor. 

Where her hair was previously a faded blue with a hint of green, it had brightened to a royal blue. It was soaked, making it darker, fitting for the night sky in those first minutes after the sun disappeared under the horizon. But when it dried, it would be more like a shined sapphire, and would glisten in the light. It worked perfectly.

Edelgard stood there admiring it while Byleth played in the mirror, twirling it around fingers, as if it would dry in front of her eyes.

“Am I free to hug you without being stained blue?”

Byleth nodded, and Edelgard rushed forward, although it was more like falling forward with the force she hit her wife with, wrapping arms around her.

“You look wonderful, dear.”

Warmth rose up through Byleth’s chest at that. Holding Edelgard up, she returned the hug, gently squeezing Edelgard into her breast, trying not to soak those clothes too much but finding it impossible when her bare skin was still wet to the touch. 

“Sorry for the, uhm, wetness.”

Edelgard snickered, sighed, and fell further into the hug.

“And, also, sorry for the fact any paintings are no longer accurate.”

“Just means we need new ones, right?”

“Heh, right.”

* * *

_The first time I showed everyone my new hair they were stunned. Except for Lin, obviously, and he was too sleepy to spoil the surprise for everyone else._

_It was cute to have everyone so positive about it, though. I did pretend it was more of an aesthetic choice than a symbol, I’m not sure I’m comfortable telling the beagles about my exact feelings, at least not in a big group like that._

_Hopefully they can be nice if I ever want to make things more formally different. I don’t want to change my name, pronouns, or anything like that, I just...want to be something that’s a bit more me._

  
  


* * *

In the weeks that followed, Byleth had become the centre of attention. It was certainly not her intention to do that.

But hair dye was somewhat rare, not through scarcity, but simply because few people bothered to do it. And a few people did raise concerns that something terrible had happened, and Byleth had been ‘blessed’ by the goddess once more. 

Neither she nor Edelgard trusted those who would attribute everything to the goddess.

Byleth’s thoughts, though, had been trapped in her diaries, a habit she kept up after the living journal inside her head had faded. Every night she would write something, usually like a conversation. A chat with the voice that had left some time ago.

And it was a private affair. But not one that Edelgard was unafraid to, on occasion, challenge. While Byleth took to a private study any time she went to go write in her study, and usually that was treated with dignity and privacy, not asking for questions, but sometimes she felt it necessary. 

“How have you been feeling about the whole...hair thing?”

They had been lying in bed together, reading independently when Edelgard asked.

“Oh, do you not like it? I’m really loving it, you should have said if you didn’t like it, I thought you-”

Byleth’s words waterfalled out her mouth. 

“No, I mean, yes, I like it, that’s not what I’m saying.” Edelgard reassured, closing her book and placing a hand on Byleth’s bare arm. Slowly, she rubbed her thumb up and down to gentle stroke her skin. 

“It’s very pretty on you. I was asking about the things you mentioned a couple of weeks ago, the nostalgia. That feeling of being connected to your hair.

“I’m sorry if I’ve seemed like I didn’t want to talk about it, I wanted to give you some space, but...are you alright?”

The both of them put their books down, turning to one another. Byleth’s chest rose heavily, as if to monologue, but she let out her breath in one long sigh. A faint nod, before she took in another breath to try again.

“Yes, I’m alright, there’s nothing to worry about. I should probably be clear about that bit?”

“Hard for me to stop worrying about you, but please continue.”

Byleth rolled her eyes and giggled at that.

“I know, I know. I just find it hard to vocalise the thoughts sometimes. Let me compose myself.”

For some reason, talking to herself came naturally to Byleth. As did writing out thoughts like a conversation. But it was like there was a disconnect between her thoughts and her vocal chords, at least when it came to what Byleth wanted. She had been taught to ask for anything, as long as it wasn’t asking for herself. Raised by a mercenary, groomed to be a goddess, the formative years had lacked in demands for herself. 

So the only way Byleth found herself able was to close her eyes and pretend she was alone. Was it healthy? Probably not. But it worked.

“I’m scared. I’m not sure who I am. I’m Byleth, the daughter of Jeralt, wife to Emperor Edelgard, Black Eagle, unintentional scion of the goddess, I know all that stuff, I have enough titles for a lifetime. 

“But all of those put me as something beneath somebody else. An offshoot of somebody else’s work. A victim of circumstance, in some cases. And I fear that when people consider me, they cannot consider me as anything other than a detail attached to those titles. 

“I am funny! And smart, in certain ways. I am kind. I am interesting. I am...good at fishing? I don’t know, I’ve never been great at describing myself without sounding very arrogant. But that all fades when people consider me. I wanted to change my hair so people consider me not as the embodiment of the goddess, but as a person.”

Byleth sighed, calming herself down but continuing to keep her eyes shut. It took a few moments for Edelgard to reply.

“Can I ask for one thing while I respond to that?”

“Of course.”

“Open your eyes, and look at me while I say this. It doesn’t have to be my face, you can admire my cuticles if you’d like, I just...want you to know I am physically here.”

Byleth unintentionally grimaced at the thought, shutting her eyes even tighter as if protecting against something. But then she nodded, opening them slowly. It took all her will not to look away, and she would frequently look away from Edelgard’s face to not feel overwhelmed, but she was able.

“I...want to make it clear you are more than just my wife, and-”

“Oh, I’m sorry Edelgard, I didn’t mean it like-”

With a squeeze of Byleth’s hand, Edelgard cut her off.

“Let me finish, Byleth. I know you didn’t mean it like that. I just want to make it painfully clear that you are not just the wife of the Emperor, you are Byleth, beloved by me. 

“And I understand. I understand the feeling that you are never more than your title. Or…” She twirled her hair. “Never more than your appearance. Dyeing your hair was a good idea, as silly as it might sound to some people.

“There is no way to force people to see you in a certain way. No matter your actions, perception is unique to each person, you can’t really control how you are perceived.”

It was at this point Byleth’s chest had started to glow red, emotions welling up and physically manifesting; she couldn’t look up to meet that gaze. Edelgard’s voice softened in response, and she gently caressed the back of Byleth’s hand with her thumb with the same motion from before, but continued.

“There’s nothing I can say tonight to fix it all, as much as I wish I could. Instead...I suppose I would like to reassure you of something.”

Edelgard shifted, sitting upright in their bed, cross-legged and facing directly towards Byleth. She was far more able to face these conversations with confidence.

“I cannot assign you an identity, much as I can’t describe what you are, Byleth. You are an enigma, just as everyone is. There is no individual who can be perfectly described, but they can still certainly be adored as whatever they are.

“And I adore you, Byleth. As my professor, I admired you. As my co-leader, I fell in love with you. Whatever you are, a fisher, a strategist, a hair dye expert, I cannot say, but I love it, whatever it is.”

Byleth had begun to cry. Edelgard could feel herself welling up too. Loved ones crying always made Edelgard cry with them, doubly so with Byleth.

“There is no title that could aptly describe what you are, no term that can capture all the beauty. I realise I am not the best painter, and my portraits pale in comparison to some, but I hope maybe they can capture some of that. There are no words to describe it.”

She reached forward, wiping a tear off Byleth’s cheek with a thumb. 

“The smile that I know hides the millions of thoughts racing to come out. The eyes that only a few people can read. The hair that shows that despite everything, you are still Byleth, my partner, my wife, my dear.”

Both of them were sobbing now, although Edelgard somehow always managed to talk and move as if she weren’t. Someone once described it as her eyes betraying the stoic persona.

Byleth had no response. Her lips quivered as if to say something, jaw opening just a touch, but nothing could come out, save for her breathless sniffles. Instead she reached forward, and pulled her wife close. They embraced, Byleth hiding her face in the crook of her neck for safety. The one place she could feel close to Edelgard without the immense pressure of meeting her gaze.

All she could manage was a mumbled ‘thank you,’ which she would repeat over and over again. 

* * *

_It’s hard to say what exactly I want to be. It’s hard to learn how to know what you want, it’s much easier to roll with what someone told you you’d be._

_And I don’t really know how to do it. I cried again today trying to put it into words. It feels like defining it hurts more than anything. Edelgard helped, though._

_But if I can’t say it, maybe I can write it. Maybe I can write what I am, and what I will be._

_I am Byleth. A fisher, a swordswoman, a hobbyist chef. I’m funny! I’m absolutely a little slow on the uptake sometimes. As much as I pretended not to be, I’m emotional. I’m a little childish sometimes. I’m deeply in love with Edelgard von Hresvelg._

_None of this defines me. No words ever could. I am Byleth, I am all these things and so much more._


End file.
